


The Longitudinal Case Study of R.C.S.

by TheSmellOfDustAfterRain



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Bullying, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-01-31 07:54:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12677631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSmellOfDustAfterRain/pseuds/TheSmellOfDustAfterRain
Summary: Logan writes a research paper about his high school bully and discovers a hidden past.





	1. Logan

Logan had just finished grabbing his chemistry book from his locket when it smashed shut with a loud clang, barely missing his fingers.

“Hey, Nerd!”

Logan sighed and turned to see Roman Sawyer, Prince of South Side, glaring at him.

“You know the drill, hand over the cash,” Roman demanded.

Logan reached into his backpack and pulled out one of the five-dollar bills he kept stashed in for his ‘lunch’. He had learned a long time ago it was best to just do what Roman said, lest he end up trapped in the bathroom, surrounded by his Boys.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” the Prince said, shoved Logan into his locker, and walked away.

This was the second time this week that Roman had demanded money and Logan was worried he’d soon run out. The thought of what Roman and his Boys would do to him if he didn’t pay sent a spike of terror down his spine.

Shaking himself, he made his way to the cafeteria, to the very back table where Logan’s only friend was waiting for him.

“Roman wanted money again?” Patton asked.

“Yeah,” Logan said with a huff as he tossed his textbook book on the table and sat down. He pulled the paper lunch bag out of his backpack.

“You should say something to someone.”

“You should stop saying I ‘should say something’. You know I can’t stand repetition,” Logan bit back. He regretted his words when he saw the look on the other boy’s face. “Apologies,” he said, “It just irks me that I have to deal with this kind of treatment every day just because Prince Roman has built himself a dictatorship.”

“So, say something,” Patton argued again.

“It won’t help. His reign of terror has lasted three years and none of the faculty has done anything to stop him,” Logan said, defeated. “You’re lucky you’re the oldest one here, or I’m sure the same thing would be happening to you.”

“Oh, I still have some trouble with Roman’s little gang,” Patton said. “It may not have been my fault I got held back a year, but they don’t know that and they like to use that against me on occasion.”

A sudden, loud sound caught both of the boys’ attention. In the back corner, nearest the two, Jackson Taylor, one of Roman’s Boys, had cornered a small student, a freshman judging by his size. Jackson had knocked the boy’s lunch tray to the ground and glared at the dark-haired student. Jackson muttered a few more indistinct insults before turning away and stomping off.

The boy crouched to try to salvage his lunch and Patton jumped up to help him.

“I don’t need your help,” the boy said behind his fringe of dark brown hair.

“I’d like to help,” Patton said with a warm smile. “Here, come sit with me and my friend.”

“It’s my friend and me, Patton,” Logan said, once the two were seated. “I’m Logan and my helpful companion is Patton. What is your name?”

“Virgil.”

“Well, Virgil. Welcome to South Side High and the worst next four years of your life,” Logan proclaimed. “You can have part of my sandwich.”

“Logan,” Patton chided, “Try to instil some sense of hope into our new freshman friend.”

“I’m not a freshman,” Virgil said quietly.

“Oh, what year are you?” Patton asked.

“I’m a senior, like you two. I’d had classes with both of you for two years,” he lifted his accusatively and Logan and Patton finally saw the face of the small boy. His face with powdered with pale foundation and thick eyeliner ringed his eyes.

“Apologies, I never noticed you,” Logan said.

“Good. No one was ever supposed to,” Virgil muttered, picking at the crust of the bread.

“I know you!” Patton exclaimed. “You’re in my psychology class. You always sit in the back and never say anything.”

“Yep, sounds like me.”

“You should eat,” Patton said.

Finally, Virgil took a small bite of the sandwich.

Seeming satisfied, Patton continued. “So, what was up with Jackson Terrible?”

“Apparently, a rumor has started to spread that his girlfriend was caught with her tongue down another guy’s throat. He wasn’t ready to hear the truth and was under the delusion that I started it.”

“Did you?” Logan asked.

“Well, yeah. But he doesn’t have to know that,” Virgil said with a devilish grin.


	2. Virgil

Virgil thought he was done with Jackson for the day, but he would soon be proven wrong.

The final bell had barely rung before Virgil found himself in dire straits. As he’d be walking down to his locker, thick arms wrapped around his slender body and dragged him into the boy’s bathroom.

Inside, several Boys stood in a semicircle with Jackson in the center. Once Virgil was tossed to the ground, the circle closed completely; there was no escape from anything that might follow.

Jackson was fuming as he spoke.

“You have some nerve talking about my girl like you’ve been,” he began,— Virgil picked himself off of the floor,— “I ought to break your arm for the things you’ve said,” —swallowed fearfully,— “But, lucky for you,”— and prepared for what was coming.— “I’m feeling forgiving.”

Even though he knew it was coming, the fist to his stomach still seemed to blindside Virgil. All the air forced from his lungs and he doubled over in pain.

Again, arms encircled Virgil and forced him to stand straight, preventing him from protecting himself from the open palm to his sternum. Then, from behind, his legs were kicked out from under him.

Collapsed and curled on the ground, the Boys began kicking him. His legs, back, his arms, were all subjected to the onslaught.

The sound of the bathroom door opening caused the Boys to cease the barrage. Tennis shoes squeaked across the linoleum. Virgil was dragged up.

“So,” the Prince, for it was only the Prince that could have stopped the attack, “this is the one causing all the trouble with one of my Boys.”

That voice, thought Virgil, I know that voice.

“Turn him around and let me get a good look at his face before we rearrange it.”

Rough hands spun Virgil around and he saw the face of the Prince. What he saw made him nauseous.

“Ro?” Virgil croaked.

The Prince stopped dead. “Verge?”

Then, from his side, a fist flew towards Virgil’s face and the world went dark.


	3. Patton

Patton was waiting for Logan to join him for lunch the next day when Virgil plopped down next to him.

“Hey, Kiddo,” Paton said eagerly. He honestly didn’t think he would see him again.

Virgil gave a grunt of acknowledgement.

“Everything alright?”

Virgil seemed to shrink further back into his large, black hoodie. His bangs obscured his face and he shrugged. He sniffed quietly.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” the older boy pleaded.

Virgil looked up. His face was caked in a thick layer of foundation and concealer and his eyes were shiny and red.

Patton, startled, placed a hand on the small boy’s shoulder for comfort.

Virgil flinched. “Don’t touch me.” He wiped his teary eyes, forgetting about the layers of makeup he woke, and rubbed some of the pale color from his face, revealing some of the dark bruise under his eye.

“Oh my gosh!” Patton exclaimed, “Who did this? Are you okay? How can I help?”

“What is the matter, Patton?” Logan asked from behind Virgil.

Virgil snapped his head around and Logan saw the traces of his black eye, too.

“What happened?” Logan asked.

Virgil said nothing.

“Are you having problems at home?” Patton asked, fervently. “Cause nobody, not even your parents, have the right to hurt you.”

“No!” Virgil said forcefully. “No. Everything’s fine at home. My mom would never hurt me.”

“Was it the Boys?” Logan asked.

Virgil nodded.

“Jackson?”

Another small nod.

“Roman?”

Virgil jumped. His eyes were fearful and his whole body began to shake. He started hyperventilating.

“Hey, calm down,” Patton urged. “Just breathe. You’re safe. No one’s gonna hurt you.”

Virgil took large, gasping breaths and slowly began to control his breathing.

“Can you speak?” Logan asked.

“Y-yeah,” Virgil stuttered.

“If you can, tell us what happened.”

“After school, I got d-dragged into the b-bathroom and a b-bunch of Boys st-tarted hitting and kick-king me.”

Patton was shaking his head and looked like he might start crying.

“R-Ro came in and one of the B-Boys kn-knocked me out. Wh-when I w-woke up, everyone w-was gone.”

“What did you do after?” Patton asked.

“I went home. What else would I do?”

“Your mom didn’t notice?”

“My mom works a lot. She’s not home often.”

“So, you were all by yourself?”

Virgil shrugged.

“That settles it,” Patton said concretely. “We have psych together next. Lo said he noticed you in his physics class after that. What’s your last class of the day and are you safe in there?”

“Uh, English with Mr. Koon and I guess.”

“Don’t leave his class. Logan and I will come get you, and then you’re coming with us to my house.”

“But…” Virgil began.

“Don’t try to fight him on this,” Logan said. “Trust me, he’ll win.”

“We’ll walk you to your classes. We won’t leave you alone,” Patton said, resolutely.

“Fine, but,”

“But what?”

“I need to go to the bathroom. To fix my makeup.”

“Okay,” Logan said, standing and grabbing Virgil’s untouched lunch. “And afterwards, I’ll show you the perfect place to eat in peace.”


	4. Virgil

The rest of the day was incredibly stressful for Virgil. The Boys who he had class with glared at him for the whole period, but with Patton, and next period Logan, sitting next to him, that was all they did. Passing period was tense, too. Virgil felt like the President being escorted by his Secret Service through enemy territory.

There was a Boy in Virgil’s English class, but Mr. Koon was not the sort to let anything transpire in his class, so the most he could do was beat Virgil in his head.

Koon’s such a Cool Teacher trope, Virgil thought to himself.

Time crawled pass. Finally, the bell rang and the students fled the classroom like they were being chased by an axe murderer.

Virgil hung back waiting for Patton and Logan and caught the eye of the teacher.

“Anything I can help you with, Mr. Sanchez,” he asked.

“Ah, n-no,” Virgil said, fumbling with his backpack. “I’m just waiting for my… my friends.” That word felt foreign to him; he had not had a friend for so long.

“Listen, Virgil, I know you don’t care what some stupid teacher thinks, but I know how hard school can be. I also know that some of the kids here can be pretty aggressive. If you ever need somebody to talk to, my door is always open,” Mr. Koon finished with a smile.

“Yeah, sure whatever,” Virgil said.

Scratch Cool Teacher, Virgil thought. He’s a Psychologist Teacher.

Just then, Virgil’s lunchmates entered the room.

“Hello, Mr. Koon,” Logan politely but warmly said.

“Hello, Mr. Sadler,” the teacher said happily. “How is your sociology research paper coming along? Still haven’t found a topic that interests you?”

“Just a bit, but I think I’ve narrowed down what I want to focus on.”

“Well, don’t let Mrs. Malec keep you down. Write what inspires you.”

“Yes, sir. We must be leaving now.”

 

 

The walk to Patton’s house was filled with bad puns, half-hearted rebukes, and full-hearted smiles from the eldest boy.

“Hey, Patton,” Virgil asked, “you’re 18. Why don’t you have a car?”

Patton’s smile faltered for a moment but returned, albeit somewhat tensely. “What are you talking about, I have two fee-ats. But, seriously I don’t really like cars and everywhere I need go I can get to by walking.”

“Oh,” Virgil seeing the flash of pain in the older boy’s eyes. “Okay, was just curious.”

They continued in amicable silence.

When the three boys clamored through the front door, a voice called out within the house. “Patton, Logan, can you come help me in the kitchen. I am in quite the predicament.”

Virgil was led back the kitchen where it looked like a tornado had run through. A man stood at the center of the devastation with his back to the boys.

“What happened in here,” Logan asked, incredulously.

“Well, I was trying out a new cookie recipe and,” he turned around. “Oh, hello! Who are you?”

This man’s dark hair and eyes seemed odds to Patton’s blond hair, blue eyes combination.

“Ah, Virgil.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Virgil!” Seeing Virgil’s look confusion, he continued, “I’m Thomas Sanders, Patton’s adoptive dad.”

“Oh, um, it’s nice to meet you too, Mr. Sanders.”

“Please, call me Thomas. Anyways, I just about ready to put these in the oven. If you boys want help out a human disaster, they should be done by the time we get all cleaned up.”


	5. Logan

By the time the kitchen had been cleaned up, the cookies had had plenty of time to cool. The boys each grabbed a couple and headed outside to the backyard. Most of the yard was taken up by gardens: a flower garden to the left and a vegetable garden to the right. An old swing set sat quietly by the fence.

“I’m pretty sure we’ll get tetanus from this thing,” Virgil said as he and Logan swung gently.

“I’ve had this since I was twelve. Leave it alone,” Patton said from where he was sitting in the grass.

“So, your dad seems…” Virgil trailed off, trying to find the word.

“Eccentric?” Logan tried providing.

“Peculiar?” said Patton.

“Weird,” Virgil finished. “Not, bad weird. Just, weird.”

“Yeah,” Patton chuckled. “He’s a bit different, but I like different and I wouldn’t have wanted a ‘normal’ dad”.

“What happened to your real dad?” Virgil blurted. “Uh… I mean,” he stuttered.

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Patton reassured.

“I’m not that much younger than you,” Virgil protested. Patton just smiled.

“Thomas is my real dad, at least, I consider him my real dad. My mom passed away and my biological father is gone.” Patton’s voice was soft and sad, a stark contrast to his usually boisterous attitude.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”

Logan had been quiet while the two had conversed. He’d been thinking about some of what Virgil had told him had transpired in the bathroom the other day.

“Virgil?” Logan asked.

Virgil made a noise of acknowledgement.

“After the Boys attacked you, how long do you estimate you were unconscious for?”

“I’d say no longer than a minute or two. I was a foggy for about five minutes after.”

“And, when you awoke, you were alone?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, wondering where this was going.

“So, the only question left is, why does Roman like you?”

Virgil chocked on his spit and began coughing. “Where the hell did you get that idea‽”

“It’s perfectly logical,” Logan said, confused.

“Not to me,” Virgil said.

“You were unconscious for, at maximum, two minutes. In that two minutes, all of the Boys cleared out of the bathroom, inflicting no more damage to you. The only one with the authority to get the Boys to leave you alone is their Prince. Only Roman could have stopped them from attacking you, so why did he? What makes you special?” Logan looked at Virgil with a frown.

“I’m not special. I work very hard to not be special.” Virgil pulled his hoodie sleeves over his hands and seemed to try to shrink into the black fabric.

“No, you are. Roman’s never reined his Boys in.” Virgil thought he caught a flicker of pain in Logan’s eyes when he said that. “Why would he call them off for you?”

“I don’t know anything about this Roman. He’s not my Ro.” Virgil immediately covered his mouth, panicked.

“So, you do know him,” Patton said.

“No, I don’t know him,” Virgil maintained. “Whoever this boy is, I don’t know him.”

“You did know him, though. In the past,” Logan said.

Virgil nodded.

“Perfect,” Logan said, unexpectedly.

Both Patton and Virgil looked at Logan with surprise.

“I just found my sociology topic. I had been wanting to research how people become bullies, but I had no reliable information on my preferred subject. Now I do.”

“You want me to tell you Roman’s life story. The guy who can have his cronies beat me to a pulp. No thanks. I may have a death wish, but I don’t want to die.”

“All information you disclose will be confidential. No one will know you were my informant.”

“Yeah, except for anyone who finds out we went to the same school before this one.”

“That won’t happen. Plus, I will offer something in return for your information.”

“What?”

“I’ll tutor you in any of your classes you’d like me to.”

Virgil coughed. “My grades are fine. I don’t need your help.”

“I’m in the top ten in our class rank. If I tutor you, your grades will be better than fine,” Logan said, smugly.

“Fine, what do I have to lose, besides a few teeth,” Virgil conceded. “What do you want to know?”

“Start from the beginning. How did you two meet?”


	6. Virgil - 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you write children!

Virgil frowned when he saw all of the people swarming around the school.

“Do I have to go?” he cried, looking up at his mother.

She glanced down from her Blackberry. “Yes, Virgil. You have to go to school,” she said with a sigh.

“But, there’s people there and they’re all gonna be stupid and loud and I don’t want to go.”

“There are going to be loud, stupid people wherever you go. You will just have to learn how to handle them,” she said stiffly. “Now, I have to get to work.”

“Hmm. Yes, mother.”

Virgil got out of the car and adjusted the backpack on his back. Nervousness roiled in his stomach. He approached the building, trying to be brave. An overly enthusiastic parent helper walked him to his classroom, his first ever real classroom: Mrs. Leppie’s 1st grade class.

Virgil sat down in one of the desks at the back of the class and watched the other kids yell and jump around. It took several minutes for the commotion to die down after the bell rang.

Mrs. Leppie pulled out her attendance sheet and began taking roll. Virgil waited for his name to be called.

“Virgil Sanchez,” she called finally.

Virgil raised his hand quietly.

“Virgil Sanchez,” she said again. “No Virgil.”

“He’s right here,” a voice said.

Virgil looked to his right and saw a bright-eyed boy looking at him.

“Next time, say ‘here’.” She moved to the next name, “Roman Sawyer.”

“Here,” the boy called. He smiled at Virgil as the teacher finished with attendance.

Time seemed to speed by as the rules were outlined, workbooks were handed out, and folders were passed around. Virgil stayed quiet.

There was a brief break before lunch, and Virgil hoped he would be left alone. So, naturally, he was not.

“Hi, there.”

Virgil looked up and saw the boy from before.

“I’m Roman,” he continued, “but my friends call me Ro. At least, they would if I had friends.” He laughed, like he had just made a joke, but stopped when he saw Virgil looked confused.

“That was a joke. It’s a line from Hercules.”

Virgil was still confused.

“Have you never seen Hercules?” he asked.

Virgil shook his head.

“You’re pretty quiet,” Roman said. “Is your name Ariel?”

“No,” Virgil said, beyond confused. “My name is Virgil.”

“That was from The Little Mermaid, but I take it you haven’t seen that either.”

 Virgil shook his head again.

Roman looked like he was going to say something else when Mrs. Leppie announced that it was time to line up to go to lunch.

They were to line up in two rows, boys and girls, and hold hands with their partner. There was an even number of students, so no one had to hold hands with the teacher. But, there were more boys than girls, so four boys ended up partnered together and had to hold sperate ends of a “buddy rope.” Since Virgil had hung back from the others, and Roman had been with him, they were two of those boys.

Roman chattered happily as they walked to the lunch room and Virgil made an occasional word of acknowledgement. After they got their lunch, Virgil thought that Roman would go sit with the other talkative kids, but he continued to follow him to a quiet, empty table near the back wall.

“You don’t have to keep following me,” Virgil said.

“I know,” said Roman.

“You can go sit and talk with the others.”

“I know,” he said again.

 “So why are you still here?”

“Because I like you. You’re quiet, but you seem cool and nice and I want to be your friend.”

Virgil was quiet for a moment, thinking. He had never had a friend before, he wasn’t sure he’d be very good at it. But, Roman seemed, as he had just said, ‘cool and nice’, and even if he was a little bit loud, Virgil found that he liked him, as well.

“I want to be your friend, too.”

Roman, Ro since they were friends now apparently, smiled at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this was actually how I had to walk to lunch from kindergarten til third grade, "buddy rope" and all.


	7. Virgil

“Awwwww,” Patton exclaimed. “That’s so precious!”

“So, the point of the needlessly drawn out story was to say that you met in first grade,” Logan said.

“If you don’t like my story-telling method, find someone else who knows everything about him,” Virgil retorted.

“Well, can we skip to something a little more informational and relevant?”

Virgil opened his mouth to speak when his stomach growled.

“Oh! It’s dinner time,” Patton shouted, jumping up. “I didn’t realize how long we’d been talking.”

“Oh…” Virgil said. “I guess I should go then.” He stood up from the swing set.

Patton grabbed Virgil by the shoulder and he tensed. “Where do you think you’re going? I told you, you gonna hang out with us. That means you’re staying for dinner.”

“But, I…” Virgil protested.

“You don’t have any allergies or anything, right?”

“No, but I don’t want to intrude or…”

“I invited you over. You’re a guest here. Now, come on. Let’s go see what Thomas made.”

Dinner was grilled salmon with rice and green beans. The conversation was light and fun. Virgil actually seemed to enjoy himself, and even smiled a couple times. After dinner, Thomas and Logan cleaned up the dishes while Virgil and Patton made up ice cream cookie sandwiches.

Patton had been joking and laughing, and for fun, poked Virgil in the ribs. Virgil hissed in pain and dropped the ice cream scoop.

“Oh my gosh! Are you okay?” Patton asked. Virgil contemplated lying, but the worried look on Patton’s face made his stomach clench at the thought of being dishonest. He shook his head. “What’s wrong?”

“The Boys,” Virgil said quietly. “It wasn’t… It wasn’t just my face they bruised.” His voice faded out, and Virgil almost hoped Patton couldn’t hear what he said. Virgil looked up and saw the horrified expression on Patton’s face and knew he had, though.

“Thomas,” Patton said firmly.

“Yes, Patton,” Thomas responded, his back still to the two.

“Do we still have any of that bruise cream?” Patton asked.

That got Thomas’ attention. “Why? Are you hurt? What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned and almost frantic.

“No. No, I’m fine,” Patton reassured Thomas.

“It’s for me,” Virgil piped quietly.

“For you?” Thomas asked, softly. “Are you okay? Is everything okay at home?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. Why is that the first thing you both jump to?”

Thomas cast a look to Patton who looked uncomfortable. “It’s not my place to say.” He cleared his throat. “I’m going to go get the first aid kit, so we can get you taken care of.” Virgil knew there was no use in hiding anything else, so while Thomas got the first aid kit he washed the makeup from his face. When Thomas returned to the kitchen and saw the dark bruise ringing Virgil’s eye, he gasped softly. “So, a black eye?”

“It's not… It’s not the only, um, bruises I have,” Virgil said, barely above a whisper.

“Okay, where are the rest?” Virgil glanced at Logan and Patton. Thomas followed his glance. “Boys, could you excuse us?”

Patton looked ready to cry. “Yes, Thomas. Come on Logan.”

Once the two were gone, Thomas spoke gently. “Okay, buddy, where are the rest?”

Virgil chewed on his nails. “My ribs,” he whispered, “and my stomach. My back, too, I think.”

Thomas made a choked sound, “Can I see them?”

Virgil took off his oversized jacket and stood nervously in just his dark purple long-sleeve shirt.

“I’m a nurse. It’s okay,” Thomas reassured. Virgil looked away from Thomas and lifted his shirt. His ribs and stomach were covered with black and purple bruises. They stained his skin like a watercolor painting of pain.

“I put ice on the ones I could reach. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right?” Virgil asked.

“Yeah, that will help with any pain and swelling,” Thomas said, snapping on a pair of medical gloves. “Did you take any pain medications?”

“I didn’t. Those tend to be locked up in my house?” Virgil answered quietly.

“Oh,” Thomas said, not wanting to intrude. “Well, I have some if you’d like something for the pain.”

“No,” Virgil shook his head, “I can’t. Besides, it doesn’t hurt that bad anymore.”

“Well, here,” Thomas said, unscrewing the cap from the bruise cream. “You can put this on yourself if you’d like, or I can do it.”

“I’ll do it,” Virgil said, taking the tube. “Um, maybe you could get the ones I can’t reach, though?”

“Sure, kiddo.”

After Virgil’s bruises were taken care of, he joined Logan and Patton in the living room. “How’re you doing,” Patton asked.

“I’m okay,” Virgil said, fussing with the sleeves of his jacket. “I should probably head home now, though.”

 “You sure? You could stay the night,” Patton said.

“I don’t have any extra clothes or anything with me, and frankly, I met you yesterday, Pat.”

A flash of pain crossed Patton’s face. “Of course, silly me!”

“Come, Virgil,” Logan said, “I’ll walk you out.” Once the two were out of Patton’s sight, Logan spoke again. “Don’t call him that,” he said with a warning in his tone.

“What?” Virgil was confused.

“Patton, don’t call him ‘Pat’.”

“S-sorry, it won’t happen again.” Virgil was frightened of the protective, slightly dark look on Logan’s face.

“It had better not.”


End file.
